


tectonic

by ErraticIpseity



Series: all the king's horses, all the king's men, and the nearly insurmountable complexity of putting things back together again [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Graphic descriptions of thinness, Post-Alice "Daisy" Tonner in The Buried Fear Domain, Season/Series 04, past police brutality and misuse of power is implied but not discussed in any detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErraticIpseity/pseuds/ErraticIpseity
Summary: The weight of the earth crushed Daisy into a new shape, while the weight of her absence shaped Basira.Set in S4, shortly after the episode “Entombed”.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Series: all the king's horses, all the king's men, and the nearly insurmountable complexity of putting things back together again [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748629
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	tectonic

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Long time no post! I haven’t had the brain juice to write much lately, but here I am at last. Also, you might recognize this ficlet. I posted it briefly then took it down to change a lot of things. I still wish it were better, but I like it more now. I hope you also like it.
> 
> Also I was really not sure whether to tag this as ship or not. So to compromise, I tagged it as Basira/Daisy but also as gen. Lmk if you think that’s not right.
> 
> **Warning for:** Graphic description of thinness. Also, this fic is Basira-and-Daisy-centric, and therefore past police brutality and misuse of power is implied. It’s not discussed in any detail, but its there.

Basira isn’t sure if she is allowed to grieve someone who came out of a coffin. She’s only ever done it the other way around.

Daisy from before was both sharp and soft in ways that Basira knew, and grew around, and grew to love. The reborn Daisy is sharp and soft as well. Her chin is sharp, her ribs protruding, her joints knobby. Her teeth are dull, her shoulders sloped. She’s still and quiet, like the springs under her skin have snapped, no longer coiled at the ready. The weight of the earth crushed Daisy into a new shape, while the weight of her absence shaped Basira.

At Daisy’s request, Basira pushes two cots together.

“More space,” she says, even though Basira didn’t ask why, and she would have done it with or without a reason. Daisy keeps explaining little things like the cots in a tone that feels like an apology, but she never actually apologizes, so Basira can’t tell her _not_ to apologize.

“Luxurious,” says Basira lightly, and leaves it at that. She makes sure the edges of the cots line up perfectly.

Their nightly routine is simple. They lie down next to each other. They fall asleep. Despite the extra space, they always end up rolling together, a tangle of limbs. Basira doesn’t dream. Daisy does. She wakes frequently, gasping for air, and afraid.

_Is this what new parents feel like?_ Basira wonders, one night, resentful and exhausted. Daisy is crying. Basira can’t help her. She feels guilty. Then angry that she needs to feel guilty.

“I’m here”, Basira reminds her every time. “You’re not alone.”

In the mornings they get up together and shake a thin coating of grit from the sheets, like they’ve sanded themselves down to try to fit their edges together again.

On day ten since the return, Basira wakes up and Daisy is gone, her cot rumpled and empty. She mentally quashes an unexpected rush of fear.

_You’re not the one with separation anxiety,_ she reminds herself. _This is progress._

She gets dressed and makes the bed anyway. There’s no chance of her getting back to sleep now. She heads upstairs to find her missing partner. When she reaches the hallway with Jon’s office, light is spilling from his open door and she can hear quiet voices from within. Daisy and Jon. She stands just out of the light, listening to their banter.

“That sounds fake, but I don’t know enough about rocks to dispute it,” says Daisy.

“Why would I lie to make up a fun fact?” Jon replies.

“Huh…you do kind of serve the god of fun facts now.”

“I do not—the Eye isn’t—don’t joke about that!”

She chuckles. “Got to get my kicks somewhere these days. You make it too easy.”

“Wait,” says Jon, then pauses for a moment. “Hello?”

“Don’t stop bickering on my account,” Basira says, crossing the threshold.

Daisy and Jon fit together. They’re both on the floor against the wall, Jon seated cross-legged, Daisy lying down with her head in his lap. Pointy limbed and shadow eyed. Hair gritty with lingering dirt they can’t seem to shower off. When Basira keeps looking on in silence, Jon nudges Daisy until she sits up and shifts away.

Daisy pats the ground beside her. “Morning, Basira. Come sit. Join the discussion.”

“Alright.” She sits. She can feel the way every muscle sits on her bones with how hard she’s forcing casual. Daisy flops sideways so her head is resting in Basira’s lap now. It fits. Feels right. Something deep behind her sternum loosens its grip just a little.

“I’ll just…” Jon says, gesturing to the doorway.

“No, you won’t,” says Daisy. Jon makes to get up anyway. Daisy shifts to settle her legs across his lap, becoming a bridge between him and Basira.

He gives an irritated little huff.

There’s another moment of silence as Basira accepts the fact that Daisy has them pinned. She guesses Jon is doing the same. Basira carried Daisy from the shower to her bed when her atrophied legs wouldn’t. But she won’t move her this time. And she knows Jon won’t either. Daisy knows this too. Her blunt-toothed grin is smug. She’s caught them both, without hunting at all.

“So. What were you talking about?” Basira asks. She may as well make the most of being used as a pillow.

Jon looks cautiously hopeful. Basira wants to leave and perhaps hit something. Instead, she listens to him talk about the White Cliffs of Dover.

“The White Cliffs of Dover were formed approximately 70 million years ago, when Great Britain was deep underwater. As tiny sea animals died, layers upon layers of their skeletons sank to the bottom. The weight of so many small things compressed the skeletal sediments in the layers below, forming chalk. Tectonic movements then pushed those crushed creatures up out of the sea…”

She definitely learned about this in school at some point. But she’s willing to humor him, because while he talks, she watches Daisy watch Jon. She searches her eyes for a familiar flicker, obsidian-sharp and glinting. But she sees only the sanded, tired edges that come from lost sleep and months of compression beneath miles of dirt.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the last installment I had drafted for this series, but I am hoping to continue it in the future.


End file.
